


An Unexpected Meeting

by Undomiel5



Series: The Forgotten Princess [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Canon Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undomiel5/pseuds/Undomiel5
Summary: T.A. 3015. Two elves on business for Elrond of Rivendell meet an old friend in Bree while sheltering from a blizzard.





	An Unexpected Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any other of Tolkien's works, idea, characters, etc. set in Middle Earth. All I own are a handful of original characters and the plots of these specific stories.

T.A. 3015  
Late Winter  
Bree-land

A brisk wind blew upon a frozen and snowy landscape, turning the air a misty, confusing white with the snow it kicked up. The land here was uninhabited save by those few travelers. If one could see through the snowy mist, lines of hills would be seen far away to the north and some distance to the east. A few stars could be seen now and then through the clouds and snow, enough to guide a traveler on his way, if he could survive the freezing cold. But for two travelers upon the North-South Road this night, the deep snow was proving more troublesome than the bitter cold.

Upon first glance at the two figures they seemed unremarkable. They were both tall and were dressed in clothes of dark grey with cloaks of a lighter grey. Two horses, one as white as the snow and the other a dappled grey, struggled behind them through the snow.

But upon a close glance the two figures were much more remarkable. Though their horses were almost floundering in the deep snow, the two were not; instead they walked upon the snow, leaving nigh a footprint behind. Both figures also seemed to glow with an inward light like the stars above.

One of the two lagged a little behind; the grey horse was smaller and had more trouble makings its way through the snow. The grey horse suddenly came to a deep patch of snow and stumbled and fell to its knees. The figure leading it was pulled off balance and stumbled as well. Some yards ahead the other figure turned back, seeming to know of his companion’s need of aid.

The figure in the rear climbed up and began brushing itself off. With a sign of exasperation that was carried off by the wind, the figure pushed backs its hood and pushed aside for a moment the thick scarf that had covered its face. The face this actrevealed was a woman’s, more beautiful than most mortals, for few could rival the beauty of the immortal elves. Her eyes were a stormy blue-grey and held the weight of long years. The whipping wind caught her hair and blew it into a golden cloud that surrounded her face and revealed her pointed ears. This was Gloredhel of the House of Elrond.

The figure in front, who had turned back, also pushed back his hood. He wore no scarf, and his face bore several deep scratches from the blowing snow and ice. His hair was golden, and his eyes too were blue. The faces of the two elves were very similar, for they were twins. This was Glorfindel the Balrog-Slayer, once of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, now of the House of Elrond and Seneschal of Rivendell.

Gloredhel started to help her horse out of deep hole but paused for a moment when she saw her brother had turned back. There was no point in shouting, for even the keen hearing of the elves would struggle to hear anything over the howling wind. For a moment the wind abated, and the air grew clearer. She waved a hand at her twin, urging him on. She would catch up. He raised a hand in acknowledgment and turned away to his original path.

After a few minutes of work, Gloredhel had packed down the snow enough to help her stallion out of the hole. With a steady hand and a firm grip on the reigns she led him onward. Bree was their destination, still some miles down the road. It was not visible through the storm, but she knew it was there: elves didn’t get lost.

Gloredhel was glad of her cloak as she pulled the hood back over her head and retucked her scarf around her face. She didn’t feel the cold like a man would, but she could still appreciate its warmth. She wondered how many hours they had left to travel. She was not tired, but she feared for the horses in the cold. They had been traveling for hours and hours it seemed to her with no rest for the horses.

Several more hours passed. The two elves continued their lonely trudge down the North-South Rode. Eventually the wind began to die, and the blowing snow abated enough for the elves at least to be able to see more of what lay ahead. A small dark mass lay ahead of them, still some miles away, and here and there a twinkle of some faint light could be seen. The two elves looked at each other and smiled. Bree lay ahead of them. This part of their journey would in another hour or so be complete.

It was actually nearly two hours by the time they passed through the West Gate of Bree. The buildings on either side of the road blocked what little wind remained, and the two elves pushed back their cloaks as they made their way toward The Prancing Pony, the main inn in Bree.

The Prancing Pony was currently owned by a man named Barliman Butterbur, a small, short man. At Glorfindel’s knock, the front door of the inn was opened a crack, his face was seen through it illuminated by a small candle. The hour was growing very late, so the inn had been locked up for the night, but seeing the two travelers standing out in the cold, Mr. Butterbur hurriedly unlatched the door while calling for a person named ‘Bob’.

“Come in,” he said, “come in out of the cold. Leave your horses. The ostler is coming to take of them.”

The twins happily complied. They did not suffer from the cold, but they still found the weather extremely unpleasant. Glorfindel thanked the innkeeper, while Gloredhel looked around. The hour was late, but a handful of men still remained in the common-room of the inn along with two or three hobbits. These looked up at the new arrivals but soon returned to their own business.

“Let me have your cloak, sir, and yours lady. I will take them to dry.” Mr. Butterbur said, breaking into Gloredhel’s assessment of their surroundings.

Gloredhel unfastened her cloak from around her shoulders and unwrapped her scarf also, handing both to the innkeeper. She studied him for a moment as she handed him her wraps. His face was paler than it had been when he appeared in the doorway of the inn. He knew there was something different about his two new guests, but so far he had not spoken of it. Gloredhel was glad of this. Neither elf wanted to draw undue attention.

Mr. Butterbur spoke again as he started to move away, “Go warm yourselves by the fires. I’ll bring you something to eat and drink in a few minutes.”

Both elves did so and were for a couple of minutes content to stand before the blazing fire. As they did so, Gloredhel looked around again. This time she caught sight of a sitting figure in a shadowed corner who she had overlooked earlier. He had a dark green cloak, tall boots, and a long pipe. Their eyes met: grey on blue. Recognizing the man, Gloredhel smiled and nudging her brother nodded towards the corner.

The man in the corner stood as the two elves approached. “Mae govannen,” he said, greeting them in their own tongue.

“Mae govannen,” the elves replied. The man retook his seat; Gloredhel sat down at the other seat at the table, while Glorfindel leaned against the wall beside his sister.

After a moment Glorfindel continued in the same elf tongue. “We did not expect to meet you here, Estel, but we are glad to see you none the less. What shall we call you while my sister and I are in Bree?”

Estel had pushed back the hood of cloak revealing his dark hair and grey eyes. “I am called Strider here, and I didn’t except to meet you here either. Is all well in Rivendell?”

“All was well when we left it.” This time Gloredhel spoke.

The three paused their conversation as the innkeeper approached bearing a tray with two steaming mugs and two bowls of stew. The twins began to eat, the two alternating who spoke and who ate.

Gloredhel began, “We have come south from Fornost. We had hoped to find the Rangers here, and our wish has been granted.”

Strider’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Why were you at Fornost?” He asked.

Gloredhel took a long drink from her mug, and her brother began to speak. “One of the Wandering Companies set out from Rivendell two months ago and had not returned, as of two weeks ago when we departed from that place. Elrond was concerned and sent us out to look for them. We followed the usual road for the Wandering Companies as far west as the Baranduin without sign of them.”

Glorfindel stopped to eat, and Gloredhel took up the tale. “At the Baranduin we met Gildor Inglorion and his company. Gildor said that they had met our missing company the previous week and thought they had headed north toward Annuminas. We followed the Baranduin north until it began to curve west toward Annuminas.”

“When we still hadn’t found them, we turned east toward Fornost. We reached that city yesterday. When we still didn’t find them, we turned south toward Bree, hoping to run across the Rangers, who we hoped could give use any news. We were caught in the most recent storm while we traversed the North-South Road.”

“Interesting,” Strider said taking a long drag on his pipe, “I have been in the north the last several weeks and only recently came to Bree. I saw no signs of your missing company. I am sorry that I could not give you better news, my old friends.”

“That’s alright, Strider. We hoped for news but would have been quite surprised if you did.” Gloredhel said. “They could have well arrived in Rivendell while we have been away the way this journey is going.”

“What will you do now?” Asked Strider. “Will you set out again on your search, or will you return to Rivendell?”

“I know not yet. My sister and I will discuss it tonight.” Glorfindel replied. “Whichever course we take, we will wait until the weather improves somewhat. We will be much worse off if the horses die from the cold and we have to walk back to Rivendell.”

“That would be unpleasant.” Said Strider taking another draught from his pipe. After another moment he rose, “The hour grows late, and I must rest before departing on the morrow. I wish you well on your journey.”

“And you on yours.” The twins replied. “Farewell.”

Strider departed for his room to rest, and the twins moved to sit in front of the fire. They did not need to sleep and would spend the rest of the night in discussing what best be done in their search.


End file.
